Vonnie Davis - For the Love of a Fireman

“I repeat, I don’t know you.” She motioned him aside so she could ring-up another customer’s purchases.

She hoped Douche-man would take the hint but, no, he patiently hovered nearby while she waited on two customers, his male aura slowly swirling around her like a testosterone fog. Turning to him, she scowled. “What part of I don’t spend time with strange men don’t you get?”

He extended his hand, his charming smile increased another dangerous notch. “Barclay Gray. Fireman, marine rescue diver, dog lover and pie connoisseur.”

The man certainly knew how to pour on the charm, she’d give him that. But she couldn’t forget that men had a potential for violence she’d never known before…

Molly shook Barclay’s hand. The warmth from his callouses sending shocks of awareness through her system. When she tried pulling back, his hold tightened and a jolt of panic twisted her stomach.

As if he could read her mood, his shifted to one of reassurance. “Calm down, Molly. I don’t intend to hurt you in any way. White Sands Diner is three blocks up the street and usually has good pies.” His thumb slowly rubbed her knuckles and she jerked her hand away.

His gaze narrowed on her as if he were some kind of therapist, evaluating her every move. Gone, too, was his cocky smile. “What have I done to frighten you?”

“Tell me, do all the women fall for this macho lure you’ve got goin’ on?”

One shoulder lifted in an arrogant shrug. “Yeah. Usually. Sometimes.” His sea green gaze quickly swept over her face. “It’s not working with you, though, is it?”

She folded her arms. “Hell, no.”

He smiled again; this time as if to soothe her. “You’re a cold-hearted woman, Molly. How will you sleep tonight, knowing I’m having pie and coffee all by my lonesome?”

Molly glanced at her fingernails. “I’m sure I won’t give it a second thought.” Oh, but she would. Who could forget his animated eyes or those cute dimples when he smiled? Or the way his deep voice triggered a need she’d be better off denying.

“Tell you what, I’ll order two cups of coffee and two slices of pie. If you don’t join me, it’ll be your fault I’ll be up all night with a sugar-induced, caffeine high.” His deep voice poured over her like honey on biscuits.

“Right. You don’t even know if there are any pies left at this time of night.”

Barclay whipped out his cell and thumbed a number. “Sarah, is that you? This is Barclay. Hey, you got any pie left?” His gaze locked on Molly’s and the corners of his mouth twitched in a damnable overconfident way. “What kind?” He nodded, no doubt listening to Sarah rattle off flavors. “Hold on.” He pressed the cell to his worn t-shirt. “They’ve got cherry, lemon meringue and double chocolate sin.”

Was he daft? She fisted a hand at her waist. “I told you I’m not meeting you for pie. I don’t care what damned flavor it is.” The last thing she needed was to get involved with another guy, even if she and her dad would only be in Florida for a few more weeks.

The man had the audacity to wink at her and then lifted his cell. “Save me a slice of each. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Put on a fresh pot of coffee too.” He slipped the cell back into the front pocket of his jeans.

“How are you going to keep that washboard stomach, eating three pieces of pie by yourself?” She was not joining him.

Humor twinkled in Barclay’s eyes, setting her system all wonky again. “You been looking at my abs, Sugar? Won’t you give a poor guy fifteen minutes to apologize for his moodiness?” He splayed a wide hand over his heart as if he were making a grand plea.

“Why don’t you do like every other man. Mumble ‘sorry’ and then slither away?”

A flicker of something passed over his face, erasing his jovial demeanor. “Is that how you’ve been treated? As if you don’t matter? Or that you’re not damned precious?”

He was hitting too close to her past experiences with men and she didn’t like it. “Look, we close soon. If you want toys for your dogs, you’d better hurry.”

“True that. Quitting time waits for no man.” Barclay sauntered off in the direction she’d indicated for pet products, shooting the lowest of blows over his shoulder. “Double Chocolate Sin pie, Miss Molly. How much you wanna bet it’s sinfully rich?”

“I hate chocolate, bucko.” Liar.

His laughter, rich and deep, bounced off the walls. “The name’s Barclay. Don’t forget it.”

As much as she wanted to fire back a volley of putdowns, she didn’t want to give this arrogant fireman the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to her. No doubt he flirted with every cashier and waitress he came across.

Which was why she didn’t want to tell him she worked the early morning shift at White Sands as a waitress. No need to give him any encouragement. So what if he made her feminine parts sit up and beg for buttermilk, as her dad was known to say? Really, she had no right to enjoy their banter, even for one brief interlude, especially with her life so unstable. Besides, she needed to get back to the condo her dad hated and see how he was doing.

Still, how many men would come out this time of night to get something for their dogs? She sniggered and shook her head. Douches of all things. When she thought about it, his devotion to his pets was kind of sexy. She slapped a hand over her eyes. Enough. Men could be heartless creatures beneath the jovial, often gentle, façade.

She’d be better off praying for immunity from handsome men, like the one who charged into the drug store minutes earlier with vibrant sea green eyes, hair the color of corn silk and deep dimples when he smiled. Or wide calloused hands that could do wicked things to a woman’s body while she inhaled his lime and ginger cologne. Erotic visions steamed a sensual path through her mind, and she shook her head to clear the thoughts.

After her shift was over, Molly hurried up the street toward the tiny condo in an older building on a side street across the road from the beach. Normally she and her dad stayed at Verne’s Cabins on the beach side of Gulf Boulevard, but the place was closed for renovations this year. Last February, when her little family made their annual trek here, the cabin they rented had been nearly uninhabitable. Still, her mother loved those little beach bungalows. It almost seemed fitting their first trip without Mom would be to a different section of the gulf side community she so loved.

A dagger of lightning ripped through the night sky before thunder bumped the ragged edges together again. Drops of rain the size of grapes pelted her head and shoulders, and she yanked up the hood of her jacket as she started a slow jog from the small strip mall along the main drag. Three more blocks and she’d be at their temporary home.

If only she could convince her dad to sell the house in Colorado and move here to the year-round warmth. The change in weather would help his arthritis and with her job back home, a web design business, she could work anywhere. She loved this little community.

Every winter, her heart yearned to return here where she could listen to the waves and relax. Unfortunately this trip, with her dad’s mental confusion coming and going, there was little relaxation to be had. She had to find quick work in order to provide for groceries, personal necessities and her dad’s medicines. Buying a new computer strong enough to handle all the graphics she used in her business had slapped her credit card balance pretty hard. Luckily, restaurants and some stores were always hiring, or so it seemed.

What remained on her credit card balance, she had to keep to cover parking at the airport, gas, food and lodging for their return trip home. Only, home was the last place she wanted to go. She did not want to return to Breckenridge and the cold empty house without her mother to warm it with her laughter and love—or to Wade.